Dragon Age Tales
by OfficerDonNZ
Summary: Put all my DA writing together in no real order. Mainly Alistair and a F!Cousland but there's also one with a female elf mage. Enjoy :)
1. The Rightful King

Alistair paced around the camp his mind in turmoil, for Mira had just announced she was intending to head for Redcliffe to see Arl Eamon; which raised the issue of telling her who his father _really_ was. So far he'd managed to avoid telling her but Alistair knew his time had run out. _This is going to be such a cheery conversion_, the templar thought dismally.

Mira Cousland was sat near the fire polishing her family's sword which she had every intent of using to end Arl Rendon Howe's life, and if she was feeling _really_ vindictive she just might use her dagger instead and cut out the man's heart while it was still beating and feed it to her Mabari War Hound. _Now's there's an image to put a smile on my face before I go to sleep_, she thought darkly.

"Mira can I speak to you?" Alistair asked.

Mira looked up and smiled a genuine happy smile on hearing the templar's voice. "Of course you can, Alistair." She paused a moment, there was something in the man's expression that bothered her. "I'm not going to like this am I?"

Alistair sighed "I don't know. I know I've never liked it that's for sure." he said as he sat down. "You know I told that Arl Eamon raised me, the reason he did was because... because King Maric was my father which made Cailan my half-brother."

Mira froze. _His father was who?_ Her mind screamed. _That makes him... now that Cailan is dead. Oh maker why me?_ She asked herself. "You could have told me sooner Alistair." she said softly.

"How?" the templar asked "Oh by the way I'm the bastard son of the dead king Maric?"

Mira shook her head. It was times like this she didn't know if she wanted to hug Alistair or hit him, repeatedly. "It's come up but you've done a very good job of avoiding the question," she replied. "Now I think I know why the Grand Cleric didn't want Duncan to recruit you."

Alistair blinked "What's that got to do with this?" he asked.

Mira sighed _he can be so..._ she thought frustratingly. "Alistair as much as I love you I know you have a brain in there, please use it once in a while." she said tapping the side of his head lightly. "You told me Duncan was forced to conscript you. The Grand Cleric didn't want you to join because of who your father was."

"That makes no sense." Alistair said, completely missing the point; or was he just in denial?

Mira sighed. _You can't run forever,_ she thought. "Alistair, my love it makes perfect sense." she replied cupping his face "You are, whether you like it or not, King Maric's son which makes you the_ rightful _heir to the throne now that Cailan is no more. You have more of a claim than Anora anyway."

Alistair shook his head, or tried to. He had to settle for frantically shaking his hands. "Oh no, it was made very clear to me there was no place for me. I was after all a threat to Cailan's rule. No, if there is an heir it's Arl Eamon, if he's still alive."

"That was when Cailan was alive, you idiot!" Mira almost screamed. "Why do you think everyone was keeping you safe, even Duncan? If the unthinkable happened..." she took a breath "As for the Arl, his claim would be as shaky as that harpy Anora's is," she spat.

"You don't like the queen do you?" the templar observed.

"No I most certainly do not." Mira replied "I've had the misfortune of meeting her on several occasions and she always came across as being a manipulative control freak." She smiled a little "My parents didn't think she was the best match for Cailan either, they never said so but I always got the impression they wanted me to be Cailan's bride. I however was too much the tom boy for the young prince."

"You, a tom boy?" Alistair asked raising his eyebrows "Perish the thought dear woman."

Mira laughed "Yes I'm afraid so. I liked nothing more than trying to sneak around the castle undetected, occasionally making things disappear and reappear somewhere else." She then gave the templar a long look, considering something that occurred to her. "Do you think Cailan knew about you? I find it convenient that he asked for both of us to light that beacon."

Alistair didn't know how to respond to that. "I wouldn't have thought so," he said at last. "Anyway I thought it was Duncan that wanted me to go with you."

Mira shook her head "No Cailan asked for us to go. Loghain wasn't happy about that, but I got the feeling it was his hatred of Orlais showing yet again. They were arguing about it throughout the meeting." Mira let herself fall back onto the grass "Loghain most likely knows about you."

"Yes without a doubt." Alistair replied

Mira just nodded as she was thinking and she didn't like where her thoughts were taking her. _How long has Loghain planned to seize the throne?_ She wondered. _Or did he decide to do that when the chance presented itself? Then there's Howe, the murdering son of a bitch._ _He definitely had that planned for quite awhile. I feel sorry for his children having him for a father. _Mira felt herself shudder at the thought of having Rendon Howe as a father.

"You miss your family." Alistair stated.

"Yes I do, I'd be lying if I said I didn't." Mira sniffed as she sat up. "I'll see Howe dead one way or another for what he's done, with Loghain right alongside. I just wish I knew if my brother Fergus was alive." She smiled a little, an idea forming in her mind. It would take some time but it would be worth the effort. Revenge against those who had wanted to destroy her family would be sweet indeed. "But I have you my prince." she said kissing Alistair softly. "Or should that be my king?"

"No, no and no," the templar protested as he was assaulted by soft tender kisses. "I'd make a really bad king. I never wanted it."

"Alistair my love, you may not have a choice in the matter." Mira replied continuing her sensual assault. "Would being king be so bad?"

"Yes, me being king would be really bad. I'm a Grey Warden and the son of a commoner to boot." Alistair groaned. _Oh maker I wish she'd stop I can't think straight when she does that._

"You'd make a fine king, Alistair and I'd be there to help you rule as queen, naturally." Mira replied.

Alistair's eyes went wide "Hold on Mira." he said pushing the amorous woman away. "You're not seriously suggesting we go to Denirim, call for a Landsmeet and depose Loghain and Anora?"

"We may have to, to stop the blight," Mira replied in all seriousness, feeling rather annoyed that he'd ruined her fun. "Eamon will know what to do. That's why I want to go and see him. We have everything else in order. I might have had some training in how to run a castle and lands, but running an entire kingdom is a big step up; even if I do come from the second most powerful family in the entire kingdom."

Alistair sat slack jawed for a few moments as he was seeing a side of Mira he never knew existed. "You're serious aren't you, Mira? You're seriously thinking of how to depose Loghain and Anora. I can't see the Landsmeet accepting a pair of Grey Wardens on the throne." He paused. "Then there's the taint in our blood, having an heir would be unlikely."

Mira grinned "Well it wouldn't be for the lack of trying, now would it?" 


	2. The Dark Ritual

"What do you think Riordan wants, Alistair?" Mira asked as they walked along the hallway. "He was acting... oddly . I don't like it."

The soon to be king raised an eyebrow. "You think so? I guess we better go see what he wanted us for," he said, opening the door to Riordan's room for his lady love.

Riordan turned to his fellow Grey Wardens as they entered his room. He wasn't looking forward to what they had to talk about. "You two are new to the Grey Wardens, and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so."

Mira exchanged a look with Alistair. _This can't be good,_ she thought.

"You mean there's more to it than just, say, chopping off its head?" Alistair asked, unsure.

Riordan let out a sigh. "So it's true. Duncan never had the chance to tell you. I had simply assumed... " he said. "Tell me, have you ever wondered _why_ the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?" he asked.

"I have to admit it has crossed my mind more than once, but I assume it has something to do with the taint in our blood?" Mira asked.

Riordan nodded. "The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough," he said, turning away. "The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal." Riordan turned back to face Mira and Alistair. "But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden... its essence travels into the Grey Warden, instead."

"That sounds... unhealthy," Mira observed, knowing what it would mean for whoever made the killing blow.

Riordan nodded. "A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed... and so is the Grey Warden."

"Meaning... the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon... _dies_?" Alistair asked, shocked. For some reason, all he could see was his beloved Mira making the killing blow so he could fulfil his duty as king. It terrified him beyond words.

"Yes. Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way," Riordan confirmed.

"So it's up to the three of us to kill this thing," Mira said at last, to break the silence that had settled over the room. "Then if need be, I will take that final blow myself," the noblewoman said, drawing herself up to her full height.

"It warms my heart to see such courage, but do not hurry so to sacrifice your life, Mira," Riordan said. He also had noticed the panicked expression that had passed over Alistair's face. "In Blights past, when the time came the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow. If possible, the final blow should be mine to make," Riordan explained. "I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fail, the deed falls on you. The Blight must be stopped now or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble," he warned. "But enough. There will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms," Riordan said, dismissing them.

"I will see you once the army is ready to march, then. I guess this ends soon, one way or another," Alistair said solemnly as he turned and walked out.

"That it does, my friend, that it does," Riordan replied as he caught Mira by the arm. "Can I ask you something, Mira?" he asked.

* * *

Alistair's thoughts were a jumble as he walked back to his room, Riordan's words echoing in his head. _A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed... and so is the Grey Warden. _Alistair was so preoccupied he never saw Morrigan leaning against the wall.

"Alistair?" the witch spoke up.

The former templar jumped. "Maker's sake, Morrigan, what do you want?" he asked, scowling. "We march on Denerim tomorrow, and I'd really like to get some sleep before then," he said, walking past the witch.

"Do you love her?" Morrigan asked.

Alistair turned slowly around. "What kind of a question is that?" he asked, perplexed.

"Tis a simple one!" the witch replied, wondering why she was doing this, though in her heart she knew why and it terrified her.

Alistair snorted. "You wouldn't understand. You don't care about anyone last time I checked."

Morrigan looked genuinely hurt, "I... I care," she said softly. "We're not waiting for the Orlaisain Wardens. It will be just the three of you."

Alistair nodded. "Riordan thinks we have a chance," he said, turning his back on the witch.

"_Alistair_!" Morrigan cried. "If asking a friend to do something _terrible_ might help... would _you_ do it?" the witch asked, hoping her voice wouldn't break.

The ex-templar turned back with a confused expression on his face. "You're asking _me _for advice? Does that really seem wise to you?" he asked.

"'Tis come to this, yes," Morrigan answered. "Wise or not, I'd like to know what you think."

Alistair sighed. "If I thought it would help, then yes, absolutely, we can use all the help we can get." With that, he left the witch to her thoughts.

* * *

"This is about Alistair and myself, isn't?" Mira asked the older Grey Warden.

Riordan nodded. "So you and he are involved? I had suspected as much," he said. "It wouldn't be the first time, either. But why did you say you would take the final blow if I failed?" Riordan asked. "It terrified Alistair."

Mira smiled sadly. "I love Alistair very much but he's going to be king, something I made sure of," she said. "You have to understand something, Riordan. I am the last of the Cousland line. I have nothing to lose. I've already lost my home and my family. If that means I die killing the archdemon, I can live with that," the noblewoman explained. "But Ferelden needs her king. Alistair is far too valuable to risk."

Riordan nodded with a slight smile. "I understand completely, Mira, though Alistair may not. Now go get some rest, you'll need it. And thank you for making Alistair happy."

* * *

Morrigan stood by the window in Mira's room looking out over Lake Calanhad, lost in thought. _You knew it could come to this_, the witch thought to herself bitterly. _You tried to warn her._ To her horror Morrigan realised she was crying. "Weakness," she muttered, drying her eyes as she heard Mira enter the room. "Do not be alarmed. It is only I," the witch said.

"Morrigan, is everything okay?" Mira asked, concerned. "Are you alright?" Her friendship with the witch was a strange one, and the noblewoman was sure that Morrigan wasn't totally the cold hearted bitch she portrayed herself as.

"I am well. 'Tis you who are in danger," the witch said, turning around. "I have a plan, you see. A way out. The loop in your hole," she said as she sat down on Mira's bed. "I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you this does not need to be."

"Does not need to be? What do you mean?" Mira asked, arching an eyebrow as she sat down in a chair.

"I offer a way out. A way out for all the Grey Wardens, that there need be no sacrifice," Morrigan said. The witch paused before continuing on. "A ritual...performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night."

Mira frowned at the word ritual, for it summoned all sorts of possibilities, most of which she didn't want to think about. "Nothing like that comes without a price, Morrigan," she said at last.

"Perhaps. But that price need not be so unbearable, especially if there is much to be gained," Morrigan acknowledged. "All I ask is that you listen to what I have to offer, nothing more."

"Alright, I can do that," Mira said. "So what sort of ritual is this anyway?"

"It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created," the witch replied. "Some might call it blood magic, but that is but a name. There is far more to fear in this world than names."

"Okay, so how does this work, Morrigan?" Mira asked.

"What I propose is this: convince Alistair to lay with me. Here, tonight," the witch said, patting the bed. "And from this ritual a child shall be conceived within me. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process," Morrigan explained.

Mira coughed. "You want Alistair to _what_?" she cried, trying to wrap her mind around it. "Do you actually think Alistair will agree to this?" the noblewoman asked.

"No, Alistair would not, but if you care for him as you seem to, you will convince him to. Consider what the alternative might be?" Morrigan asked. "Do you think Alistair will fail to do his duty as the future king and save his country? And if you take the blow instead, he loses the woman he loves. How do you think he would feel about that?" the witch asked.

Mira looked numbly ahead. "I was ready to die, Morrigan, to take the fatal blow if Riordan failed." The noblewoman looked over at the witch. "I'm the last of the Couslands. My line dies with me. I think I accepted that a long time ago," she said. "Now you offer me hope and I don't know what to do."

The witch stood and walked over to where the noblewoman sat and slapped her hard across the face. "You are my only true friend, so you had better listen to me, Mira Cousland," Morrigan snapped, enjoying the shocked expression on the other woman's face. "You do not know if your brother is dead, he may still live. For all his shortcomings, Alistair is hopelessly in love with as you are with him. And was I not in the Landsmeet chamber when you declared him king, saying you would rule by his side?" the witch asked. "If you ever repeat what I'm about to say, I will deny it. Alistair will make a good king, and with you at his side he will be a great king."

Mira smiled weakly. "Thanks, Morrigan," she said, rubbing her cheek. "Ouch, you pack quite a wallop, you know."

The witch smiled. "Thank you. Please think about what I offer you: the chance to avoid death. Or better yet, the chance to slay the archdemon and live as a hero. No Grey Warden has ever done this." Morrigan paused; this was going to be hard. "In return I conceive a child, one who will be born with the soul of an Old God. After this is done, you allow me to walk away... and you do not follow. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish."

It took Mira several moments to process what the witch had said. "_WHAT_?" she yelled. "I can't see Alistair being overjoyed at that. Come to think of it, neither am I. Have you gone completely out of your mind, Morrigan?" the noblewoman asked.

"It may seem that way to you, Mira, but that is the way it has to be." The witch took a breath. "I once said to you that while I may not always prove... worthy... of your friendship, I will always value it."

Mira got up and hugged the witch, much to Morrigan's distress. "And I'm still glad to call you friend. I'll go talk to Alistair, but about the baby." The noblewoman paused. "Promise me you'll take good care of it, and teach it love and compassion, for I know you're not completely the heartless witch you portray yourself as. I won't pretend I understand why you want an old god baby, but that bitch Flemeth had better never get her claws on it, otherwise Thedas is screwed."

Morrigan suppressed a smile. "Oh, I intend to make certain that dear sweet mother never finds it. That's even if she can recover from being slain," she said. "And I promise you, Mira, I will do my best raising the child to make it a well rounded individual, but you know I lack both love and compassion," the witch said.

Mira grinned. "You do not lack love and compassion, Morrigan, you merely lack the knowledge to expresses it adequately. But you'll get the hang of it. Now I better go and smooth talk Alistair into having wild witch sex with you."

* * *

"I see you can't sleep, either," Alistair observed as he paced his room when Mira entered. "I also saw Morrigan outside your room earlier, and the look she gave me... that was icy even for her." There was no way he was telling his lady love of the bizarre conversation he'd had with the witch. "Is something up?"

"Alistair, you know that I love you very much, right?" Mira asked, trying to hide her own nerves.

"Could you make it sound any more ominous?" the ex templar asked with a grimace. "Tell me, already."

Mira gave a weak smile. "You asked for it, my king," she said. "Your wildest dreams come true: sex with Morrigan."

Alistair burst out laughing. "All right, that's pretty funny. Nice way to cut the tension. So what's really up?" he asked.

The noblewoman rolled her eyes. "I'm completely serious. You need to sleep with Morrigan, as part of a magic ritual."

"Oh cute, Mira. This is payback, right? For all the jokes?" Alistair said, chuckling, but then he saw the sombre expression on his lover's face. "But... you're not joking. You're actually serious," he said, pacing back and forth as he spoke. "Wow, be killed by the archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make that kind of choice?" he asked. "You're not actually asking me this, are you? What kind of ritual is this, anyway?" Alistair said, looking over at Mira.

The noblewoman gave a shrug. "It's some kind of ancient magic. Flemeth's, probably," she said.

"Well, isn't that reassuring," Alistair said dramatically. "Wait, no, it isn't," he concluded.

Mira almost smiled at that. "I can't lie to you, Alistair my love," she said. "This will produce a child."

"_WHAT?_!" the ex templar cried. "I... I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to_ impregnate_ Morrigan in some kind of magical sex rite?!" he asked, shocked. "This... child... why would Morrigan want such a thing? Does she want an heir to the throne?"

The noblewoman shook her head. "No. I'm not sure I understand it fully, but I think she wants to make some kind of Old God baby," Mira admitted. "In the process, it _will_ save whoever has to kill the archdemon."

"Oh. Well that's so _much_ better, don't you think?" Alistair asked sarcastically. "Here I was worried about creating another bastard heir and I didn't even _consider_ that it might also be some dragon... god!" he cried in frustration, letting the rest of Mira's words sink in. "But I can see how that... might be important." The ex templar gave a heavy sigh. "Look, even if I was willing to entertain this idea... and I'm not saying I am... is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure...?" he asked, concerned.

Mira nodded. "Yes I'm sure, even if I'm not sure how I feel about you having sex with another woman. Call me possessive if you like, but it's something Cousland women are known for. You_ need_ to trust me, Alistair," she said softly. "If I could do this myself, I would."

"I _do_ trust you, Mira," Alistair said, trying not to think about the images that his lover's last statement had conjured. "If this is what you think is best... I'll do it." He let out a groan. "Where is she? Let's get this over with before I change my mind."


	3. Where Are We?

"Ugh..." Alistair let out a groan. He couldn't even remember how or why he was lying face down on a dirt road. He lifted his head and looked from side to side. To his right was Mira, and to his left Wynne. Both women were out cold, and lying in very undignified positions. The templar had a flicker of a memory. Had one of Wynne's spells gone off incorrectly?

"It's possible," the templar muttered as he stood up slowly. He then helped Mira and Wynne to their feet. "So, any idea where we are?" he asked.

Mira gave her patented shrug. "No clue, Alistair my dear," she said, looking around. "Though we seem to be on a road, so that's a start."

Wynne smiled at the two young wardens. "We may want to ask the approaching patrol," the mage said, pointing up the road.

Both Mira and Alistair looked to where the spirit healer had pointed, and sure enough, a patrol of what looked to be six soldiers could be seen coming towards them. It wasn't until the patrol was much closer that they saw the seventh member of the group.

"Is that... is she... are we in the Fade, Wynne?" Alistair stammered, unsure of what his eyes were seeing. Because unless he'd had far too much to drink, he could see a desire demon walking up to them, or at least she _looked_ like one, with the horns and tail. There were things that seemed off to the templar, not least of which was the woman's reddish brown hair.

"I do not believe so, Alistair," the mage replied. "As to whether the young woman is a desire demon or not, I am uncertain. She does seem to appear to be one, but..."

"But when did you see a demon of any kind wearing full armour and carrying a weapon?" Mira asked. They all could see that the woman wore armour that resembled light chain mail, and nestled against her right hip was the hilt of a sword. Her six companions all wore what seemed to be plate armour of some kind.

"Are you three alright?" asked one of the soldiers. "You looked to have taken quite a spill."

"Yes, we're fine, thank you," Mira replied, happy they could understand these people. _Well, they don't seem to be charmed, which is strange,_ she thought. Mira had encountered enough desire demons to know what they were capable of.

"Is that a desire demon?" Alistair suddenly blurted.

Mira wished she could bury her head in her hands. _Of all the dumb things to say, Alistair... _she thought.

The red haired woman blinked then looked around her with a slight frown. "I don't see any demons, do you, Sergeant Dobbson?" she asked the man next to her.

The sergeant shook his head. "No, Neeshka," he replied. "Though I think he may have been meaning you."

At this, Neeshka's face screwed up in confusion. "Huh? That's new," she said. "I've been called lots of things, but never that before."

"Oh, Maker..." Alistair muttered.

Dobbson smiled slightly. "Well, it could be said that you're the Captain's desire demon." The man was smirking.

Neeshka gave the sergeant a long suffering glance. "Oh, ha-ha, very funny," she said, rolling her eyes. "And might I remind you that I'm baatezu, and _NOT_ descended from some tanar'ri hindlicker, thank you very much!" She was doing her best to scold the man and failing utterly, if the grin on Dobbson's face was anything to go by.

Wynne couldn't help but be intrigued by the young woman's outburst. _Baatezu, tanar'ri? I wonder what they could refer to? _the spirit healer thought. _Could it be that tanar'ri is their word for demon? If so what does baatezu refer to?_ Then a very unpleasant thought occurred to the mage. _I don't think we're in Thedas._

Mira shook her head in mild disbelief. _Just how lucky can one man be?_ she thought. "Alistair, my dear, I thought Templars were taught, among other things,_ tact_?" she asked. "Or is that lesson reserved for_ full _Templars?"

"That's low, Mira," Alistair replied, sulking. "You're mean. I don't like you anymore."

Mira smiled seductively. "You don't mean that, Alistair..." she said, moving closer to the ex-templar. "Maybe I need to lick your lamppost. It might help you stop seeing desire demons everywhere." Her voice had become husky with desire. For his part, Alistair looked and felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Neeshka broke the awkward moment by bursting into laughter. "His _lamppost_, huh? I'll have to remember that," she said, snickering.

Neeshka suddenly turned towards the tree line, sniffing the air. "Oh Torm's teeth! Trolls!" she yelled, just as two of the ugly green skinned monsters came busting through the trees.

Dobbson and his men reacted without thinking, drawing their swords and splitting into two groups of three. Meanwhile Neeshka quickly cast fire enchantments on their drawn weapons, and mentally prepared herself to hurl a fire orb at both trolls once the beasts were put down.

Mira, Wynne, and Alistair all reacted on instinct as well. Mira and Alistair joined the melee with the ugliest monsters they'd ever seen, and Maker, did they smell! Wynne hung back, casting her healing and support spells as needed, and adding in an arcane bolt every now and then. The spirit healer cast a glance at the woman whom they'd mistaken for a desire demon to see she now had her hands glowing with fire. _The woman is a mage?_ Wynne thought, puzzled. _What in Thedas is going on?_ As soon as the beasts were down, Neeshka let the balls of fire fly, slamming into the monsters and killing them.

"What _were_ those things?" Mira asked, panting. "I've never seen monsters regenerate like that. Darkspawn don't even do that, thank the Maker."

"Those were trolls and the fact that they can regenerate so quickly makes them hard to kill. Oh, and unless you hit them with fire or acid when they go down, the buggers will just get right back up," Neeshka explained, making a face. "I hate trolls."

"I saw you cast the fire balls that killed those monsters. I take you're a mage?" Wynne asked.

Neeshka nodded. "Sorceress actually," then she grinned, "And a very talented thief, too."

"Huh, you're not an apostate then? I was beginning to think the soldiers with you were Templars," Alistair said, wondering just how she could be a mage and a rogue.

"Apostate, what?" Neeshka asked in confusion, narrowing her eyes. "You three aren't from around here, are you?"

"No, I don't think we are," Mira admitted. "For I've never heard of someone who was a mage and rogue both."

Neeshka looked skywards for a few moments. "Right, might be an idea to head back to Crossroad Keep. We can talk more there, figure out where you're from and get a decent meal too. That's if you want to come, can't force you."

"A decent meal sounds wonderful. Anything has to be better than Oghren or Alistair's cooking," Wynne said.

"Hey!" the ex-Templar cried. "My cooking's not as bad as it was."

"That's not saying much, my dear," Mira observed playfully.

"Anyway, if you're not a desire demon, what are you?" Alistair asked, pouting.

Neeshka giggled as she was really starting to like Mira. "I'm a tiefling, which, put simply, means I'm part human and part devil. I'll give you the long explanation later."

Dobbson let out a sigh. "You know, milady, the Captain and Sand are just going to _love_ you when we get back," he said as they set off with their three new friends.

Mira had long ago learned the art of simply observing and listing so she was intrigued by the fact that at times Neeshka was called by her name yet at other times milady by her escort as that was Mira had deduced these men to be, not that the tiefling seemed to mind at all.


	4. The Traumatised Templar

Nathyrra Surana had always attracted attention at the Circle of Magi, and not just because she was an elf but because she was a dark elf. Her skin was a dusky grey, her hair off white and her eyes a deep vibrant violet. She could still recall the day that Ser Bryant of the Lothering Templars had come to take her to the tower, and the poor man had looked uncomfortable. She would find out on the journey to the tower that it was one aspect of being a Templar that he didn't enjoy, breaking up families. After all, Ser Bryant had chosen to become a Templar, but mages didn't get any say in the matter. It was ironic considering that Andraste the prophet had been a mage fighting against mage domination, something the Chantry did little to point out.

Perhaps it was because Nathyrra was from such a small village that she'd never feared the Templars. To her they were just people doing a job, though that couldn't be said for her own family, as elves were considered by many to be second class citizens. Add the fact her entire family were dark skinned, which wasn't the norm for the elves of Ferelden, and most people were suspicious of them. So the irony that Nathyrra had revealed her innate magical talent by healing someone wasn't lost on the young dark elf.

It wasn't until Nathyrra was becoming a young woman that she realised just how exotic some of the men (and a few of the women) found her. She wasn't sure what to make of it all. The Templars were hard to read, as most of them wore those dumb tin pots on their heads. The only exceptions seemed to be Knight-Commander Greagoir and a young Templar named Cullen.

The Knight-Commander was gruff but not unfriendly if you ever had to talk to him, as he took his job seriously. Cullen, on the other hand, usually ended up tripping up over his own tongue when talking to Nathyrra. The dark elf mage felt sorry for him, as it was painfully obvious that he had a crush on her. He wasn't fooling anyone, especially not the Knight-Commander or the First Enchanter. Nathyrra thought he was good looking for a human, but that was about it.

Now Nathyrra cursed Jowan's name yet again as she, along with Zevran, Wynne and Leliana, battled their way up the Circle Tower. What had possessed her to help her long-time friend destroy his phylactery was beyond her. But perhaps she should thank him, for if Duncan hadn't recruited her into the Grey Wardens, she could have been an abomination.

As Nathyrra entered the room at the very top of the tower that held the staircase that led to the Harrowing Chamber, she saw something that made her heart break. There in some sort of magical prison was a lone Templar, chanting to himself. Nathyrra knew who it was even at this distance; it was Cullen.

"Oh, Maker, Cullen, what's that bastard Uldred done to you?" the dark elf mage asked, running over to him.

Cullen looked up on hearing an all too familiar voice "This trick again?" he asked, looking into concerned violet eyes. "I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong..." the Templar said, looking back down.

Nathrrya was shocked. " Cullen, don't you recognize me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "It's me, Nathyrra." _What have you done to Cullen, Uldred_? she wondered.

"Only too well... how far they must have delved into my thoughts..." Cullen muttered, not making eye contact.

"The boy is exhausted. And this cage... I've never seen anything like it," Wynne said, placing a reassuring hand on Nathyrra's shoulder, for the spirit healer knew of Cullen's obsession. "Rest easy... help is here."

"Enough visions. If anything in you is human... kill me now and stop this game," Cullen cried in anguish. "Sifting through my thoughts... tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have... Using my shame against me... my ill-advised infatuation with her... a mage, of all things."

Nathyrra's eyes widened in shock. She knew Cullen had a thing for her, but she hadn't realised just how deep his feelings had run. "Oh, Maker," she murmured.

"He's delirious. He's been tortured... and has probably been denied food and water. I can tell," Leliana observed softly.

"Someone was quite the little heart-breaker when they were an apprentice. My, my," Zevran said, wiggling his eyebrows at Nathyrra.

"Not now, Zev," the dark elf mage hissed as she knelt down in front of the Templar. "Cullen, I'm real, I'm no trick of the mind," she said gently, trying to get through to him.

"Silence... I'll not listen to anything you say. Now be gone!" Cullen bellowed as he stood up, looking around. He still saw Nathyrra, along with Wynne as well as two other people he didn't know. "Still here? But that's always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them."

"Why does it cause you so much pain?" Nathyrra whispered. "What happened to you?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"You are a mage and I, a Templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all you are," Cullen replied flatly.

Something inside the dark elf snapped. "Damn it, Cullen, stop preaching Chantry chapter and verse!" she cried. "It's me, Nathyrra, the girl you could never have a conversation with without tripping over yourself. There is nothing wrong with liking someone you know."

Cullen was taken aback by Nathyrra's outburst. "It was the foolish fancy of a naive boy. I know better now," he said at last, not fully believing his own words.

"Maybe, but it wasn't the best kept secret, you know," Nathyrra replied. "Everyone knew, from the newest apprentice and initiate all the way up to the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter." The dark elf mage paused. "I lost count of how many times Irving and Greagoir gave me _The Talk_," she said with an amused smile. "Cullen, as you can see, I'm real and I'm here to clear up this mess."

The Templar nodded. " Don't blame me for being cautious, Nathyrra. The voices... the images... so real..." Cullen shook his head to clear his thoughts. " Why have you returned to the tower? How did you survive Ostagar? I thought all the Grey Wardens were killed?"

"This was my home, Cullen," Nathyrra said. She didn't want to talk about Ostagar.

The Templar nodded. "As it was mine. And look what they've done to it. They deserve to die. Uldred most of all," he said. "They caged us like animals... looked for ways to break us. I'm the only one left... They turned some into... monsters. And... there was nothing I could do," Cullen said, his voice filled with anguish and pain.

"Uldred will pay for what he's done," Nathyrra promised solemnly. It was all she could do for her friend.

"And to think I once thought we were too hard on you. I once felt pity for the Circle. Now I'd like nothing more than to wipe their taint off the face of Thedas," Cullen ranted.

"We're not all evil, Cullen," the dark elf mage whispered, fearing for the Templar's sanity. "Where are the others?" she asked.

"What others? What are you talking about?" Cullen said in disbelief.

"Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred. Where are they?" Wynne asked.

"They are in the Harrowing Chamber," Cullen said, looking towards the stairs, fear in his eyes. "The sounds coming out from there... oh, Maker..."

"We must hurry, Nathyrra. They are in grave danger, I am sure of it," Wynne said.

"You can't save them. You don't know what they've become," Cullen cried, panicked.

"I am a mage too, Cullen," Nathyrra stated softly. "Not all mages are evil," she said, thinking of the First Enchanter.

"But you haven't been up there. You haven't been under their influence," the Templar cried. "Only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons," Cullen said. "They've been surrounded by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts."

Wynne shock her head sadly. "He's suffered pain and anguish like few have had to endure. That and his lust for revenge have confused the issue..."

"Do _not_ presume to judge me, mage! I am thinking clearly... for perhaps the first time in my life," Cullen shot back.

"Your outrage says differently, Cullen... I agree with Wynne," Nathyrra said.

"Then you are a fool who does not see to the heart of the situation," the Templar said. "To ensure this horror is ended... to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there."

"I'd rather spare maleficarum than risk harming an innocent," the dark elf mage replied, refusing to be intimidated by the deranged Templar.

"Thank you. I knew you would make a rational decision," Wynne said.

"Rational? How is this rational? Do you understand the danger?" Cullen asked, horrified.

"I know full well the dangers of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry," Wynne snapped.

"You know nothing!" Cullen yelled. "I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Ferelden."

"Cullen!" Nathyrra yelled, surprising even herself. "Listen to me. I am going to the Harrowing Chamber to confront Uldred and he'll be dead soon thereafter. I'll try and save whoever I can. There is a blight coming, and there are far worse things that plague this world than blood mages." She took a few steps closer. "I remember you as a good, kind man. Don't let Uldred win, Cullen. He's already destroyed too much of this place. Don't let him destroy you, too." She looked the templar in the eyes. "If you still care about me, don't let him win." The dark elf then turned towards the stairs and began to climb them, with Wynne, Zevran, and Leliana following.


End file.
